


Heartstrings

by hobbitsdoitbetter



Series: An Absence of Colour [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birthday Presents, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet, Tattoos, follow up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitsdoitbetter/pseuds/hobbitsdoitbetter
Summary: Molly gives Sherlock a very personal birthday gift...Set in the "An Absence of Colour," universe but can be read as a standalone.





	

_Disclaimer_ : This fanfiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Not beta-read so all mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

* * *

**~ HEARTSTRINGS ~**

* * *

 

“I just hope you like it.”

And Molly shyly turns her back on Sherlock. Pulls off her ludicrously colourful jumper and tosses it onto their bed. With quick hands she drapes her ponytail over her shoulder before unhooking her bra and casting it off too. This leaves her bare back turned to Sherlock, a transparent bandage visible across her left shoulder-blade.

“Well?” she says softly.

She turns her head so that she can see Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, and her expression is... worried. Sherlock also can’t help but notice the way her hand clenches into a fist at her side. He can see her pulse pounding slightly at her throat too, though she’s trying to keep her voice even.

_Trust Molly to worry more about his reaction than her own comfort._

Slowly, quietly, he crosses their bedroom to stand beside her. His hand ghosts out to touch her back, brow furrowed as he studies his birthday “gift.” It’s a tiny, stylised tattoo of a violin, rendered (as his own tattoo is) in white ink. Half the size of his thumb, the lines of it are delicate and elegant. It’s barely visible on Molly’ s pale skin, making it the sort of mark one would have to know to look for. Making it the sort of mark a wife might share with her possessive, overprotective bridegroom. Because of its placement he can tell that getting it would have been painful, and yet he can’t help the jolt an sheer, animal satisfaction that goes through him at the sight of it-

 _It tells me she’s mine,_ he thinks. _Just as I’ve always been hers._

Without thinking he reaches out. Kisses the flesh above it. His arm hooks around Molly’s waist, pulling her against him, and as often happens her fingers dance up his forearm to his elbow, unconsciously trace the tattoo he long ago had inked into his skin for her. She hums in pleasure, leaning back into him more fully, pressing her backside into his slowly-growing erection.

“You like it,” she says, and it’s not a question- But then Sherlock doesn’t expect it to be. (She knows him far better than that).

“It’s perfect,” he answers softly, fingers splaying against her belly and rubbing teasing, inviting circles there. Her breath hitches and he smiles to himself. “It must have hurt though,” he adds, tone solicitous. “I should like the chance to kiss it better- Would you like that too?”

He feels rather than sees Molly’s smile widen; her fingers tighten against his and she pivots on her heel to look at him. “We’ll have to be quiet,” she says softly. “Can’t risk waking anyone, can we?” She snorts. “Not with a full house.”

Sherlock nods, arousal twining through him.  _Spending his birthday weekend with his family no longer seems like such a harmless idea_. “You are, as ever, an angel,” he tells her, and at this she kisses him. Laughs a little more loudly. She looks almost unbearably lovely, with her bare breasts and her long dark ponytail hanging down. With her warm soft smile and dark, lovely eyes.

As often happens, Sherlock wonders at how lucky he's been in finding her as he did.

“You still think I’m an angel, love?” she says playfully. “I’ll have to do something about that...”

And she pulls him to her. Kisses him soundly before pushing him onto the bed. Climbing on top of him...

* * *

 

An hour later they’re both naked and sated and utterly knackered. “Still an angel,” he mutters into her hair as she snoozes on his chest.

He pictures his birthday present and smiles.

 

 

 


End file.
